


Don’t you worry (as I swallow you whole)

by blackkat



Series: Jango/Fay prompts [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Eldritch Fay, F/M, Halloween Costumes, Humor, threats as flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:07:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25534840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: “You're going like that?” Jon asks warily.Fay hums, spinning in front of the mirror, and—maybe the three sets of wings are overkill after all. “You don’t like it? Too close to the edge of insanity?”
Relationships: Fay (Star Wars)/Jango Fett, Jon Antilles & Fay (Star Wars)
Series: Jango/Fay prompts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1941700
Comments: 13
Kudos: 331





	Don’t you worry (as I swallow you whole)

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: Jango/Fay. College costume party AU. Jango and Fay decide to go to a costume party as themselves. Which is to say, they stop pretending to be normal. Jango the Hunter and Fay the Eldritch Horror. Fay still has to be a little normal, if only to spare the minds of the innocent.

“You're going like that?” Jon asks warily.

Fay hums, spinning in front of the mirror, and—maybe the three sets of wings are overkill after all. “You don’t like it? Too close to the edge of insanity?”

Jon just shrugs. Fay supposes it’s hard for a reincarnated god to tell that sort of thing anyway, and particularly the god of gentle darkness facing _her_. “It’s a lot,” he says.

“You sound like Knol,” Fay tells him, and Jon ducks his head, hiding a faint smile.

“Knol's right a lot,” he says.

“Knol conned Nico into dressing as a barbarian so she could go as a captive princess,” Fay says dryly. She pulls in the third set of wings, checking how the dress falls, and smooths her hands over her hips. Draws one wing back out, and smiles. Potentially there are too many eyes showing, but—Halloween is meant for creepy costumes.

Jon is smiling, though he’s hiding it. Fay managed to find him before too long with the Dark Woman this time around, and adoption of a teenager is _far_ easier when she can just nudge a few minds here and there, but—they still have things to work on.

“At least,” he says, “no one will recognize him.”

Fay chuckles. “The mustache is rather distinctive,” she counters, and Jon just shrugs, shifting back a little further on the bed. He tucks his knees up against his chest, arms wrapped around them as he watches her.

“Halos?” he asks.

Fay raises a hand to her head. “You're right, I’d forgotten. How many, do you think? Three, to match the wings?”

Jon considers this for a moment. “Having nothing match is more unsettling,” is his verdict.

“That’s very true.” Fay lets five of them show through, loops of light that are unsettlingly bright, just a little too pale, but—she’s hardly the only engineering student pulling a few tricks to win the costume contest. And it feels good, beyond that—this is the most of herself she’s allowed to show in _centuries_. It’s hard to terrify mortals to the point of madness now, in the age of social media. She doesn’t want to accidentally mindwipe the wrong person, after all.

“There,” she says, and turns to give Jon a smile. “How do I look?”

“Terrifying,” Jon says, mouth curving. “And pretty.”

“I’ll take it.” Fay crosses to the bed, leaning in to press a kiss to his dark hair, careful not to sear her image into his mind. “You’ll be all right?”

Jon nods, sliding off the bed as she pulls away. “I'm going to wander,” he says. “It’s a full moon tonight.”

“Be careful of werewolves,” Fay says, though there’s little danger any shapeshifter could harm Jon. They tend to climb all over him, instead, but—well. Fay would prefer that any necking Jon does with a shapeshifter happens outside the influence of the full moon and Jon's catnip-like effect on the moon-touched in the darkness.

Jon flushes faintly. “I know,” he says with dignity, and reaches up. The burning dark stone hanging around his neck on a moon-white chain comes away easily, and he offers it to her. “If you want? You don’t have a necklace.”

Smiling, Fay turns and lifts her head, pulling her wings out of the way so that he can clasp it around her throat. “Thank you, Jon,” she says, and means it.

Jon smiles at her, quick and pleased, and says, “Now it’s perfect.”

It is. The black fire of the stone is a perfect contrast, and Fay brushes it with her fingertips, then straightens. “All right,” she says. “I'm off. Lock the door and activate the wards behind you.”

“I will.” Jon touches her hand, one glancing brush of fingertips, and then is gone, nothing but a flicker of shadow in the dark hallway. Fay watches him disappear into his room, then carefully tips one halo so it sits crooked, checks that her keys are in folded space alongside her wallet, and heads for the front door.

The air outside is practically humming, like it usually is on Halloween. It’s less the power of the day itself at this point, so far divorced from the religions that first granted it weight, and more the power given to it over the centuries, and here it’s particularly powerful. Fay smiles to herself, nodding to the charming fae who lives five houses down, his ability to speak circles around everyone else just a little too good for a mortal. Obi-Wan nods back, but averts his eyes after a moment, and Fay wants to laugh that he thinks she wouldn’t know precisely how to contain herself. He’s headed in the opposite direction, though, and she lets him be, coming to a halt on the street corner. The sprawl of the university campus starts four blocks down, and it’s a beautiful night for a walk—

A flicker of presence, as bright and sharp as a knife, and _dangerous_.

Fay spins, just as there’s a sharp sound of startlement. The universe _bleeds_ —

A long knife levels at her face, blessed steel shimmering in the moonlight.

Fay eyes the blade, then lets her gaze slide up to the man behind it. In his forties, average height, with dark skin and hair cut just long enough to want to curl. His expression is all anger lacquered over alarm, and Fay watches his gaze flicker from the halos to the wings to her fingertips, the darts of golden light around them a quiet threat.

He’s in armor. Silver blessed by moonlight over cloth woven with unicorn hair, impervious to most magics. That’s not a common thing for a mortal to be wearing. Fay hasn’t seen its like in a century, in fact.

“Hunter,” she says, and lowers her hand, taking a deliberate step back. Carefully, watching his face, she smooths her dress again, shakes off the darts of light to burn out on the sidewalk. And through, though that’s more of an accident than a show of force; it’s entirely possible she’s forgotten what it’s like to have this much of herself present.

“Old One,” the hunter says, deeply suspicious, and takes a step of his own in retreat. Lets the blade fall to his side, though he doesn’t sheath it, and Fay smiles. He’s clever. She likes that.

“Out looking for something?” she asks, because Jon is going to be coming out soon. She would bet on him over any hunter in a fair fight, especially on a night like this, but—well. Jon has a gentle heart, for all he can be ruthless. She wouldn’t want to put him in such a situation.

There's a pause, so long that Fay almost thinks the hunter isn't going to answer. Then, finally, he says, “I could ask you the same thing.”

Fay smiles. It doesn’t seem to comfort him. “I'm going to a costume party,” she says mildly, and plucks the man’s name from the surface of his thoughts. Jango, and—she thinks she remembers hearing about the scion of one of the largest factions of hunters going by that name. It’s been decades since then, though.

Incredulity rises, razor-edged. “A _costume party_?” Jango demands. “Like _that_?”

“I won't burn out any minds tonight,” Fay says placidly. “I just wanted a change of pace, and this was easy enough to manage on short notice.” She eyes him, then lets herself smirk, just a little. Knol's clearly been too much of an influence. “As if you have any room to talk, Jango.”

Something rueful flickers over Jango's face, and he sighs, aggrieved, and drags a hand through his hair. “My son ruined my other costume,” he says grudgingly, “and a friend threatened to set my house on fire if I abandoned her.”

Fay laughs, startled, and raises her hands to muffle it. “And would she?” she asks, amused.

“Zam would set the neighborhood on fire if she thought it would get me out of my house,” Jango says, clearly annoyed, and grimaces, sheathing his knife. “Let me guess, you're going to Vos’s party.”

The universe works in amusingly coincidental ways, even when Fay doesn’t have her fingers in the act of guiding it. She chuckles, then offers Jango her arm. “Perhaps, since we’re headed to the same destination, we should arrive together,” she says.

Jango stares at her for a long, long moment, then sighs loudly and takes her arm, tucking it through his and tugging like he’s intending to drag her up against his side. It’s a silly show of force, and Fay doesn’t bother to let herself be moved. Tugs lightly, instead, and Jango almost trips over his own feet as he overbalances, practically falling on top of her with a yelp.

“Mind your manners, Jango,” Fay tells him calmly.

Jango's staring at her as he pushes back up to his feet, and the look on his face doesn’t quite know what it wants to be. “Or what, you’ll eat me?” he demands.

Fay laughs. “Don’t be silly,” she says. “I don’t eat people, I just drive them mad.”

The wash of Jango's fear runs headlong into a magnesium flash of arousal, and his next breath is ragged.

Fay cocks her head, looks him up and down. Smiles, and leans in, curling her wings around them and letting an extra set of eyes blink open, silver and glowing. “Oh, Jango,” she says. “You couldn’t keep up with me.”

“Yeah?” Jango says, and the surge of emotion in his soul is all _fuck yes_ and _challenge accepted_ , and delightfully belligerent. “I guess we’ll just have to try it out and see.”

Jon is going to be so disappointed in her taste. Fay laughs, tucking herself in against Jango's side, and says, pleased, “I suppose we will.”


End file.
